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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440815">the end of all things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/casandeans/pseuds/casandeans'>casandeans</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>15x18 coda, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Temporary Character Death, Dean Winchester Has Feelings, Emotional Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Castiel (Supernatural), POV Dean, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, References to Canon, dean and cas are idiots, dean swears like a sailor, i can't believe that's a tag but basically that's it, that apparently needed the empty to figure out feelings, this is me coping with the fallout of 15x18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:27:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/casandeans/pseuds/casandeans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural 15x18 coda</p><p>Dean always knew how he felt about Castiel. He just never thought it would be reciprocated or that it would lead to this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>337</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The End of All Things - Panic! at the Disco</p><p>Whether near or far<br/>I am always yours<br/>Any change in time<br/>We are young again<br/>Lay us down<br/>We're in love<br/>We're in love<br/>In these coming years<br/>Many things will change<br/>But the way I feel<br/>Will remain the same<br/>Lay us down<br/>We're in love<br/>We're in love</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The End of All Things</p><p>[15x18 coda]</p><p> </p><p>Dean sat on the floor with his head in his hands and he couldn’t stop fucking <em>crying</em>. The sounds shivered out of him in breathless sobs, his body shaking so violently he thought everything might shatter around him. Everything <em>had</em> shattered around him. <em>Cas</em>—</p><p>Cas was—</p><p><em>No</em>. Dean dug the heels of his palms against his closed eyes, pressed until spots shone against the blackness. He sucked in a breath like he was trying to regain something, to put what he’d lost back in his body, but it was only cold air coating the emptiness. His insides were hollow. He thought he’d been ripped apart hundreds of times before. He thought he knew what it felt like to swallow a void. But it was never like this. When Sam died the first time, there was desperation and a fury that made him want to murder the world. When he held his mom in his arms, gone once again, he felt himself fracture like the jagged pieces of the empty whiskey bottle he’d thrown across the kitchen. When he watched light pour from Cas’s eyes, saw the outline of burned wings on the sand— even then there had been anger, carelessness, the desire to go on a hunt and not come back home. But this…</p><p>There was nothing for Dean to hold onto. Nothing for him to lean on. He tried to summon anger, or understanding, but he could never get past despair. The cold cement at his back sank down to his bones. The bloody handprint seeped into his shoulder. Part of him could still feel its warmth, could still feel the quick outline of Cas’s hand squeeze his shoulder before he was thrown across the room.</p><p>Cas was—</p><p>Dean’s phone buzzed across the floor. Another call from Sam. Dean knew, logically, that he should answer it, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. Couldn’t bring himself to tell Sam, to say the words—</p><p>Cas was—</p><p>The call went to voicemail. Again. Time was running out, Dean knew that. Chuck was burning through this world and reducing it to rubble. He and Sam had a job to do. They were the guys that saved the world. But right now, Dean didn’t care. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Let the world end. What did it matter anymore? What did it matter because Cas was—</p><p>Cas was…</p><p>A dying sound crawled up Dean’s throat, snagged on his lower lip as he sucked it between his teeth. With every blink, Cas’s face appeared on the black screen behind his eyelids. Lips trembling, face slick with tears, blue eyes so wide. Confessing words that had been on the tip of Dean’s tongue for years. And then when it mattered, when maybe it could have made a fucking difference, his mouth had gone dry and he’d been too afraid to say it. Always too afraid to tell him.</p><p>Cas was—</p><p>And he never got to hear Dean say it back. Dean never got the words out.</p><p>“Cas,” he had said, his heart in his throat and his hands shaking and Cas was moving toward him and Dean could finally say it back, he <em>had</em> to—</p><p>“Goodbye, Dean.” The same hand that had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition clamped around his shoulder and Dean was airborne. Slammed against the wall, his head spinning from the impact when he looked at Cas. The Empty was reaching its liquid black tendrils toward him and Cas was—</p><p>It all happened so fast. The sigil on the door broke and Billie burst into the dungeon, the Empty materialized and sucked Billie into its nothingness, and Dean was frozen as the black tidal wave collapsed over Cas, consuming him whole. Dean never had the time to get to his feet, to try to get to Cas, to make sure he knew that he loved him.</p><p>He loved him.</p><p>It had happened years ago, something gradual and subtle that Dean could never pinpoint exactly when it started, but it was there all the same. He loved Cas, and that had been enough for him. It had been enough because he had known Cas could never love him back— Cas was so full of light and life that he deserved someone that could give him the world… and that was never Dean. All Dean could ever do was hurt Cas, over and over again, stabbing him in the back and plucking out his feathers one by one. Even when he tried to tamp down his anger, even when he tried to keep from lashing out at Cas when it was never his fault, Dean always managed to hurt Cas. So Dean had to push his feelings down, cast the butterflies in his stomach aside, because that was what had always been for the best. Dean could handle loving Cas from a distance, but he could never risk losing him. He was nothing without Cas.</p><p>“Damn it,” Dean whispered, a staccato breath to puncture the silence that weighed down on him. Slowly, still shaking, he peeled his hands from his eyes and blinked through the tears. His eyes felt swollen and sore, and the room swam with shadows. For a second, before he could really focus on his surroundings, he half expected to still see Cas standing across the room. Trench coat intact, free from the Empty, looking back at him like he hung the stars in the sky. But no. He wasn’t there. Dean was alone with the flickering lights and the sigils painted on the floor. Because Cas was—</p><p>Cas was. <em>In love with him? Gone?</em></p><p>
  <em>…Dead?</em>
</p><p>“No,” Dean muttered, fear starting to make him tremble all over again. “No no no no no no!” The words echoed off the walls, rang in his ears. There was no one here to hear him. No one here that could make him snap out of it, that could wake him up, because this had to be some kind of nightmare, it <em>had to</em>—</p><p>All of a sudden, Dean felt like he was suffocating. His jacket was shrinking, tightening on him, and the handprint was burning through layers of clothing and skin to try to stain his very soul. On the verge of hyperventilating, Dean wriggled out of the jacket, his arms getting caught in the sleeves. Every movement caused a scent to rise in the air, a scent that had been embedded in the fabric— salt from the sea, the sticky sap of pine trees, and honey being poured over tea. Dean knocked his head back against the wall, his hands stilling with the jacket balled up in his lap. He would know that smell anywhere. <em>Cas</em>.</p><p>Cas was—</p><p>More than anything, Dean wanted to feel Cas’s warmth beneath his hands, dig his fingers into the fabric of his trench coat instead of into this ruined jacket. Maybe if he had been a little bit braver, he could have had the things he wanted: Cas curled up in his arms, Dean’s lips leaving soft kisses along his jaw as he inhaled the wild nature of the angel. That was the cruel reality of this. All this time that Dean had spent loving Cas in silence, knowing it was unrequited… and Cas had loved him back. Wholly and entirely.</p><p>If Dean had been a bit braver, none of this would have happened. Cas would still be here. He wouldn’t have felt like he needed to sacrifice himself to kill Billie, to save Dean from her wrath. Cas wouldn’t have been taken without knowing that Dean felt the same way. That Dean loved him back.</p><p>God, if only he had been able to <em>say it</em>. His whole life, saying <em>I love you</em> had never been easy. Something had always stopped him, had kept the words from meeting the air. And it was true that he tried to show his love in other ways, but Cas deserved more. He deserved to hear it. He deserved to hear Dean say his name like it was holy, because it <em>was</em>, in a way that was older than Heaven or Hell or the universe itself. Cas deserved to hear that he changed Dean’s life, that Dean had never truly been alive before they met, not really. Cas deserved to know how important he was— how nothing ever felt quite right when he was away from the bunker, or how Dean had felt like his insides had been scraped out by grief’s knife when he had had to bury him after Jack was born. Dean needed to tell Cas all of these things, and then some, and Cas needed to understand that he wasn’t just some pawn that could be thrown away whenever the going got tough. Dean <em>needed</em> him. Not to save him at the end of the world or from Death, but to save him every day and keep on saving him. In all the little ways: making sure Dean got his coffee in the morning, sending emojis that were wildly inappropriate for the conversation, pulling Dean out of the liquor bottle whenever he felt like too much, grounding him with the knowledge that they always came back to each other, <em>always</em>.  </p><p><em>You’re supposed to come back</em>.</p><p>But Dean was too afraid to let himself hope.</p><p>“Why does this sound like a goodbye?” Dean had asked, and the sad acceptance in Cas’s eyes had made him want to throw up.</p><p>“Because it is.”</p><p>Another jagged breath and Dean threw his jacket across the room; it hit the opposite wall and slumped to the ground with a muffled thud. The world was supposed to end with thunderous applause and bangs like a thousand gunshots fired into the air. It was never supposed to end this quietly, with a heart being shredded, rendered unrepairable. Dean knew that when it was his own time to finally die, it would be a bloody, violent end, but Cas… Cas was supposed to live forever. He definitely was never supposed to throw everything away for a broken, bitter man. Dean was supposed to be the one to sacrifice himself, to make up for all the wrong he had done, to go down fighting so Cas could live to see another day. Not the other way around. The story wasn’t meant to end like that. <em>Their</em> story wasn’t supposed to end like this.</p><p>The phone scuttled across the floor again, the vibrations at last shocking some recognition out of Dean. The world was ending, for real, even if Dean felt like he had already seen it all crumble before him. Dean had people relying on him. Sam had lost Eileen and was hurting, everyone around them was disappearing, and something was off about Jack. And on top of it, Dean was going to have to pick up the phone and explain to them what happened, how he had screwed everything up and forced Cas to pay the ultimate price because Cas was—</p><p>No. Cas <em>wasn’t</em>.</p><p>He couldn’t be. Because that wasn’t how their story ended.</p><p>Cas had told him. He had <em>told him</em>. No matter how bruised and broken he felt on the inside, Dean was more than an instrument of destruction or a tool of war because Cas knew who he really was. He <em>knew</em>. Cas had seen Dean’s flayed soul in Hell and had decided to rescue him anyway. Had decided to reassemble him with care— gingerly aligning his bones, bleeding the color from ferns to give him back his eyes, pulling constellations down to scatter freckles across his cheeks. Cas knew who he was, inside and out, and nothing— not the raging fury or hate or the ugly vicious things inside him— nothing had made Cas turn away completely. Cas loved him in spite of these things and he loved him <em>because</em> of these things. Even if Dean couldn’t see it, couldn’t quite accept it yet, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. And because of Cas, because of how he had put him back together, both in Hell and time and again when he was lost— with the Mark, when he was a demon, when Michael wouldn’t let him go— Dean finally understood. Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being.</p><p>Dean was nothing without Cas. Would <em>be</em> nothing without Cas. Cas had changed him, had given him faith and had taught him what it meant to truly love someone, and now to be loved in return, even when he had always believed he was too damaged.</p><p>Even if Cas couldn’t be his, even if he couldn’t have what he wanted, he held firm to the one truth he had always known: Cas always comes back. Dean’s whole life had been written in a book, but Cas was never supposed to be in the story— Chuck said so himself, twelve years ago: <em>You’re not in this story</em>. And Cas, the angel that tore up the plans and defied God himself: <em>Yeah, well, we’re making it up as we go</em>.</p><p>Their story wasn’t over because it wasn’t written in stone. Cas was never supposed to fall from Heaven, never supposed to fall in love with Dean. That wasn’t something Chuck made up. It wasn’t something that could be manipulated. <em>You asked what about all of this is real</em>, Cas had said. <em>We are</em>.</p><p>That was the answer. The <em>truth</em>. Chuck could pull the strings, could abandon the storyline if he didn’t like it anymore, but this was one thing he could never figure out as a writer— this profound bond linking Dean and Cas together, reuniting them over and over.</p><p>Cas was not allowed to die without knowing how much Dean loved him, how his heart threatened to burst from his chest and follow Cas to the unknown. Cas was <em>somewhere</em>. He was in the Empty and he had gotten out of there before and, goddamn it, he was going to do it again. The Empty was a place— that was something Dean could do, somewhere he could go. If they had been writing the story all along, Dean damn well knew how he was going to plot the ending. With his hands reaching through the darkness to clutch at Cas and pull him out, bring him back home.</p><p>He had to tell Cas he loved him.</p><p>Dean shook his head once, rolling back his shoulders and stumbling to his feet. He cast a momentary glance at the room, at the ground where Cas had stood with tears rolling down his face and all his light shining out from his smile.</p><p><em>I love you</em>.</p><p>Dean swallowed down the hopelessness, put a hand out to steady himself on a bookshelf. If he let himself think too hard, he knew he would fall to his knees and never get up again.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Cas,” he murmured, forcing his gaze forward as he ripped the door open. “I’m coming for you.”</p><p>He had work to do.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! I know this has an implied happy ending and I could probably leave it here, but I think everyone is collectively losing their mind after 15x18 (me included) so I won't stop until these two idiots are back together, so there will be 3 parts to this, all posted before 15x19 airs!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Castiel wakes up in the Empty. His sacrifice might not have gone as well as he originally thought.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel was awake.</p><p>He had no idea how that was possible, but when he opened his eyes, he was standing in the Empty. Surrounded by darkness, but conscious. Not alive, he didn’t think, because he was here, but if he was really and truly dead, he should be asleep now. He shouldn’t be awake. And if being awake was the same as not being entirely dead, that meant…</p><p>“Hello, Castiel.”</p><p>He whipped around to see Meg’s sinister smile— no, not Meg, <em>the Empty</em>. Looking at him like it was starving.</p><p>And Dean was—</p><p>Before he could even open his mouth, the Empty snapped, “No, Castiel, I didn’t take your little boyfriend. I’m not interested in having humans here. They’re so <em>loud</em>.”</p><p>His heart stuttered, slowed by a single beat. When he spoke, his voice was like liquid, like sun shining off of water. Hopeful. “So Dean is safe?”</p><p>“From me, at least.” The Empty tilted its head and smirked, jerking a thumb toward a writhing dark form. Billie, eyes wild and crazed, enveloped by the swirling, chaotic black matter that had poured forth from the Empty. Her mouth was covered, unable to speak, but Castiel could feel the waves of hatred radiating from her. “From her, too. I can’t guarantee anything else.”</p><p>Any tension Castiel has been holding deflated, his smile once more returning, because in spite of everything— in spite of the fleeting heartbreak that he had seen flash through Dean’s eyes, in spite of Billie bearing down on them, in spite of where Castiel was now— he had actually, finally succeeded. He had kept Dean <em>safe</em>. The righteous man, the hunter with a heart of gold, the love of his long, long life— Castiel had finally been able to figure out how to protect him.</p><p>His gaze snapped from Billie back to the Empty as it took a step toward him, slinking silently through all this nothing. When it spoke, the grin on its face made Castiel’s stomach queasy. There was a hysteria behind Meg’s eyes, a wrongness to it looking so gleeful, so goading. “But I <em>can</em> tell you that as much as you <em>love</em> Dean, you didn’t keep him safe from everyone.”</p><p>Castiel’s hands started to shake, half fear and half rage. “What do you mean? I thought—”</p><p>“Oh, Clarence. Weren’t you curious to know why you’re awake? After all you’ve done, after all the <em>noise</em> you’ve caused?” The Empty was close now, so close, and even in Meg’s smaller form, its presence towered over him. “Didn’t you realize that <em>you</em>were the one, at the very end, that hurt Dean the most?”</p><p>“No…”</p><p>“Yes, Castiel. <em>That’s</em> why you’re awake. That’s why I’m telling you this.” The Empty cackled, circling him, drinking in the dawning misery. “I want you to know forever how your happiness created true heartbreak. Going to sleep, forgetting— that’s too good for you. I want you to <em>suffer</em>. I want you to spend eternity knowing that you’re the one who hurt Dean Winchester beyond repair.”</p><p>“But… That’s not possible. Dean doesn’t—”</p><p>“Doesn’t what? See you in the same, pathetic light? <em>Love</em> you? You forget, Castiel. I know everything about you. I was in Death’s library. I know <em>everything</em>.”</p><p>Dean… <em>loved</em> him? That wasn’t possible. Surely Castiel would have noticed, would have picked up on it at some point. All the days and nights pining after Dean… surely, he would have known if Dean returned any of his sentiments. Surely he didn’t—</p><p>He and Dean always had shared a more profound bond, simply from the fact that Castiel was the one to raise Dean from perdition, but as the years had passed… he couldn’t pinpoint when exactly, but he had fallen completely and irreversibly in love with Dean. He always thought that part of their connection was one-sided, unreciprocated— that it was Castiel who always came back to Dean because he <em>had</em> to. He had always fought tooth and nail to make it back to Dean, because the selfish part of him wanted to be near him.</p><p>And Castiel <em>wanted</em>. There had been plenty of things he had done for Dean because that was what was required of him— as an angel, as a friend— and then he had defied plenty of things to protect Dean. And then there had been plenty of things that were done for the greater good, for the world, and he had swallowed his desire and shouldered his sacrifice because he would pay the price for whatever he needed to if it meant he could save Dean from a grisly fate. Like when Kelly was in labor and the rift to the other world had opened— Castiel had charged into apocalypse world, fully prepared to keep Lucifer contained, knowing he might never survive the feat, even when all he had wanted was to return home to Dean, to retreat into whatever Dean would let him have. Castiel <em>wanted</em>, but he had always thought Dean didn’t want. Could never want. Because how could Dean love him— someone who had betrayed him, hurt him, stayed away to keep him safe. Castiel was fallen and broken, and loving Dean was a privilege he couldn’t believe he could have, but that was all it was and all it would ever be. Dean would never return his feelings. Couldn’t. Being with Dean in the way that he wanted was something Castiel could never have.</p><p>As much as his heart yearned, as much as he <em>wanted</em>, Castiel had had to content himself with loving from afar. There had been nights where Dean and Castiel had stayed awake until the early hours of dawn, researching or talking or just doing their own thing with the presence of each other’s company. Always, eventually, Dean would drift off, and Castiel would smile softly at Dean’s light snores. And even though he knew Dean didn’t like being watched as he slept, Castiel would steal those moments for himself— watching Dean’s face smooth with the peacefulness of dreams, and Castiel would dream about all the things he wanted: to climb in bed next to Dean, fit himself into his arms and tuck his nose against Dean’s throat, kiss every inch of his skin in worship, in praise, with Dean sighing the name he gave him— <em>Cas</em>— like he loved him back, like he wanted him.</p><p>He glared at the Empty. “Dean doesn’t love me. You’re lying.”</p><p>It shrugged, running cold fingers along Castiel’s arm before turning toward the darkness. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. I’ll let you ponder that one over. But I <em>can</em> tell you with absolute certainty that you broke his poor, fragile human heart. Shattered it beyond repair.”</p><p>“No,” Castiel breathed, but the Empty was already gone, vanished along with Billie. It was just him, alone, with so much nothing pressing down on him. “I don’t… Dean—”</p><p>Twelve years of memories slammed into him with enough violence to knock the breath from his lungs. Dean on his knees, beaten and bloodied because of what Castiel had done, pleading with his hands raised, <em>I need you</em>. All the times Dean’s hands had lingered a little too long, dragging down his arm, palm cradling his cheek, and part of Castiel’s brain had screamed, <em>he says you’re his brother but he doesn’t do this with Sam</em>, so Castiel had just shoved it down, thought he was reading into it. How Dean had grabbed him, desperate, clutched at him the second time they were in Purgatory. The words reaching Castiel mid-fight with the leviathans: <em>I should have stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go</em>. And then later, the way Dean’s eyes flickered over him and he cleared his throat, <em>Okay, Cas, I need to say something</em>, and Castiel had thought he felt he needed to say his prayer to his face, but what if… What if Dean had been trying to tell him something else?</p><p>Castiel felt his heart drop to his stomach. <em>What had he done?</em></p><p>Maybe it hadn’t all been one-sided. Maybe Dean had been trying to tell him, this whole time, in his own way, that he reciprocated. Castiel had rebuilt Dean, had stitched his soul back together after Hell burned through it, and he had thought he understood everything about Dean, about his motivations. But maybe he had been dead wrong.</p><p>Castiel had watched the tears start to well up in Dean’s eyes as he confessed, as he told Dean how selfless he was. His voice, so quiet, a murmur: “Cas,” and Castiel had known he wouldn’t say it back, that the Empty was already on its way and he couldn’t bear to have the last thing Dean said to him break his heart— a heart that should have never been capable of breaking. And then Dean had started to plant himself between Castiel and the Empty, had been ready to fight because he was a truly decent man, before Castiel flung him aside with a goodbye on his lips. But if Dean had been trying to ask him to stay, to ask for more time to find the words—</p><p>It hadn’t just been Castiel that had tried so desperately to come back home to Dean. When Dean had been controlled by the Mark, when Dean had been trapped in his own mind by Michael— He had always come back to Castiel. They always returned to each other. But that meant—</p><p>Castiel was here. Probably dead. And Dean was—</p><p>Dean might have loved him back.</p><p>It couldn’t be true, it <em>couldn’t</em>—</p><p>But what if it was?</p><p>Castiel sank to the ground, head in his hands.</p><p>God, what had he <em>done</em>?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>again, thank you so much for reading!! there's going to be one more part to this, posted before 15x19 airs, that will absolutely be less overall angsty-- it's angst with a happy ending, remember? 😊</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry for the delay in posting! (my dog demanded my attention and has no respect for writing deadlines)</p><p>this takes place prior to 15x19, even though it's being posted after the episode has aired</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean had a plan to get Cas back. Sort of. Was it batshit crazy? Probably. Did he think this was a good idea? Not really. Would it work? Hopefully.</p><p>Scratch that. It <em>had</em> to work. If it didn’t— if Dean couldn’t get Cas back from the Empty— he didn’t know what he would do. It all just came up blank. The future boiled away to nothing.</p><p>Dean was hanging on by a thread and he knew it. They had all pretty much been dangling, puppets on strings waiting to be cut from the controls. After Sam had lost Eileen, he would stare out into emptiness, lost in another world, a book open in front of him that he had last looked at hours ago. Jack was stunned into silence, shocked by the quickness of loss— of watching their friends vanish in front of them, of losing his father yet again, of not being able to do anything to stop it. Dean understood what gears turned inside both of their brains, because the mechanism in his head mirrored theirs. Their life had been consumed by death and despair and someone paying the ultimate price just so everyone else in the world got to march right along to their happy endings. The world took and took and <em>took</em> from them, but now… Now it was their turn to steal some of it back.</p><p>Dean knew that God was knocking at the door. He knew he needed Sam, he needed Jack, and he needed to get his shit together and figure out what to do to stop the world from ending. He knew… he just didn’t care, not without Cas. As long as Cas was in the Empty, Dean was useless— to Sam and Jack, to anyone and anything. He could cook, make sure Sam and Jack ate. He could tear through old tomes and ancient manuscripts trying to find answers, even if he couldn’t comprehend any of it because his brain kept playing <em>the one thing I want, it’s something I know I can’t have</em>, over and over again. If he needed to, Dean could fire a gun or exorcise a demon— all things his dad had taught him when he molded him until he was the perfect weapon. All that fire, all that anger, but Dean didn’t want to lean back on it, didn’t want to use it as a crutch. He wanted to find a better way to get through this. He wanted to be a better man. For Cas. <em>Because</em> of Cas.</p><p>So hours had passed, rolled over into days, and Dean knew that if he came up against Chuck, he was sure to lose. Cas cared for the whole world because of Dean— well, it was only fair that the opposite was true. Dean wanted to care, knew Cas would want him to, and he tried to bury his head in the job, he <em>really</em> tried, but there was no chance of winning without Cas. Without Dean being able to hold Cas, touch him and make sure he was alive, and unload the burden he’d carried for years— that he loved him, that he could have <em>this</em>, he could have whatever he wanted, and Dean would give it all to him.</p><p>Everything was hanging on this plan. Getting their friends back, the balance of the universe, <em>everything</em>. Dean just hoped he could hold it together long enough to see it through.</p><p>Quiet footsteps approached the kitchen and Sam appeared in the doorway, pausing for just a second when he saw Dean on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, beer bottle swinging from his fingertips.</p><p>“You ready for this?” Sam asked, retrieving a beer from the fridge before sinking to the floor, facing Dean.</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>Sam nodded, tapping his fingernails against the bottle. “You think it’ll work?”</p><p>“Not really,” Dean repeated, but he shook himself back to the reality of his brother and the bunker kitchen with another sip of lukewarm beer. “But hey, I’ve been wrong about this kind of thing before. I fucking hope this goes off without a hitch.”</p><p>“But…?”</p><p>Dean sighed. “But I’m trying to keep my expectations realistic. If I let myself hope, truly hope, that this’ll work without all hell breaking loose, and then it all goes sideways… I— I’ll be crushed, Sammy.”</p><p>“Yeah, Dean, I know. I want them all back, too. I want— <em>God</em>, I want Eileen back,” he whispered, voice cracking, and he cleared his throat. “It’ll work, Dean. We’ll get them back.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know. We’ll find a way to get them all back. I know,” Dean said, staring at a point beyond his vision, seeing nothing but blue, blue eyes. He drew in a breath, ragged, rattling around his ribs, closer to the verge of tears than he’d like to be. <em>Now or never</em>. “Sammy, there’s something I gotta tell you.”</p><p>Sam frowned, his serious face in place, and Dean felt a flutter of nerves start swimming in circles in his stomach. God, this was so new to him— he had no idea how to do this, how to get the words out without wanting to vomit.</p><p>“You know the way you feel about Eileen?” Okay. It was a start.</p><p>Sam nodded, a breathy laugh as he brought his beer up to take a sip. “Yeah, Dean, I know the way I feel about Eileen.” And Sammy must have been exercising a lot of patience for Dean’s benefit, because he grimaced at the mention of her name but continued, “Why are you asking me this, Dean?”</p><p>“So, you, you know,” Dean trailed off, his mouth shaping the word love but only releasing empty air. “You, uh, her?”</p><p>God, Sam had to have infinite loads of patience, must have known that pulling this out of Dean was like pulling teeth. “Yes, Dean, I love her. Again, why are you asking me this?”</p><p>“Well, uh, I—” Dean broke off, hissed in a breath. He could do this. “That’s. Um. I get it. How you feel. It’s how <em>I</em> feel, about… about Cas.”</p><p>And Sam started laughing— he actually started <em>laughing</em>. Dean was too stunned to say anything before Sam could get out, “Dude, are you kidding me? I’ve known that for <em>years</em>.”</p><p>Dean felt like he needed someone to pour a bucket of ice water over his head, pinch him to make sure this was real. “You knew?”</p><p>“Dean, you’re aren’t exactly subtle. I know you’ve been pining after Cas for years. I’m your brother. You didn’t need to hide it from me… but you also didn’t need to tell me. I knew.”</p><p>“You knew,” Dean said, but that was all he was able to get out before those damned tears were back, welling up and trickling down his cheeks. He held a hand out to Sam, squeezing his shoulder before his brother pulled him into a hug. All these years, all the panic and fear about admitting his feelings to himself and what that meant, and admitting it to Sam— and <em>Sam had known the whole time</em>. Something broke inside of Dean, something akin to joy, his body being cleansed, flooded with freedom. Sam had known how Dean had felt about Cas this whole time and didn’t care. He still loved him anyway.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Sam said, clapping his brother on the back. “It’s okay, Dean. You didn’t have to, but I’m still glad you told me anyway.”</p><p>Dean pulled back, smile laced with relief, and let out a watery laugh. “Thanks, Sammy. For… for everything.”</p><p>As if on cue, Jack came into the room, quickly followed by Adam— no, Michael. Dean’s insides clenched, the all-too familiar terror starting from his core, but he tamped it down. This Michael was different. This Michael was on their side. This Michael understood that they needed Cas back in order to defeat Chuck, in order to restore balance to the world.</p><p>“We ready?” Dean scrambled to his feet, quickly scrubbing his eyes, clearing his throat as he compartmentalized, put everything back in place. If he thought too hard about what happened, about what he was going to do, about Cas— he would crumble and be unable to save Cas, and that simply couldn’t happen.</p><p>“Are you sure about this?” Jack asked, hesitant, looking so small from where he stood in the corner, face in shadow. Not for the first time, Dean felt a jolt as he was reminded how <em>young</em> Jack was, how his childhood had been stolen from him. Maybe, if they all survived this, they might get the chance to be a proper family, with Jack getting to take the weight of the world off his shoulders.</p><p>Dean rolled his neck, shook out his arms. “Ready as I’ll ever be, kid.”</p><p>With a glance to Michael, the archangel placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Both sets of eyes glowed golden. This was the plan: for Michael’s grace to flow through Jack, which would give him enough power to open a portal into the Empty for Dean to climb through, grab Cas, and bring them both back home. It was all going to work, Dean reminded himself. It <em>had</em> to.</p><p>A thin light slit through the air, beckoned him forward. He was in the bunker, the condensation from his beer bottle still slick in his palm, stepping from the kitchen through the portal, and then—</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>There was nothing. He was nothing. Nowhere. <em>Empty</em>.</p><p>Nothing but the void, black ooze creeping toward him and through him. The darkness was moving.</p><p>How the hell was he supposed to find Cas here? In a place where there was no direction, no distinction— only confusion. The very air felt threatening.</p><p>This was where Cas had gone. This was where Cas had <em>chosen</em> to go, to send himself so that Dean could live, and Dean—</p><p><em>Dean hadn’t had the chance to say it back</em>.</p><p>A fresh wave of despair washed over him, trying to force Dean to his knees. “Get a hold of yourself, Winchester,” he ground out, taking a step forward. This was a mission; this was a rescue.</p><p>“Cas,” he called, voice echoing. “Castiel!”</p><p>A torrent of images seared through his mind: Cas exploding with a snap of Lucifer’s fingers, Cas wading into the water and his head going under, a reaper driving a blade into Cas’s gut and his body motionless in an armchair, black veins crawling through Cas when he was stabbed by the lance of Michael, light streaming from his eyes, the outline of wings scorched into the earth. The breath was slammed out of Dean. It was a punch to the gut, it was—</p><p>All manipulation. He needed to focus, to remind himself. This was what the Empty did, Jack had told him. It targeted its inhabitants and showed them the worst parts of themselves, the worst parts of their lives. It created absolute, eternal misery.</p><p>“Cas,” Dean called again, his voice cracking, and he moved onward in the darkness. “Cas, man, where are you?”</p><p>He stilled. Closed his eyes. With them open, he wasn’t able to see anything past all the <em>nothing</em>, but maybe he wasn’t supposed to see. He was supposed to feel, to let whatever it was that tied him to Cas pull them back together, bring them back to each other.</p><p>But in the Empty, Dean could still feel every ounce of pain he’d ever experienced all at once. He was on the rack being tortured, his body sliced and bleeding— he was the one placing a body on the rack, the one doing the torturing. His fist was colliding with Cas’s face, an angel blade hovering over Cas’s chest as the Mark screamed in his veins. There was Sam, there was his little brother, being worn by the devil; Dean was the demon, but it wasn’t a vessel, it was <em>him</em>, and he roamed the halls of the bunker with a hammer in hand, anticipating when he would bash in his brother’s skull. These things were not because of what happened to him. This <em>was</em> him— it was in his DNA, in his blood. He was a weapon. All he knew was how to hurt, how to wound, how to kill—</p><p><em>No</em>. No, that wasn’t him, and it had never been who he was, and he believed it because Cas had told him so. He was <em>good</em>, and <em>pure</em>, and he saved the world for love— raised Sam for love, saved the whole world for love, came back to Cas for love.</p><p><em>Cas</em>—</p><p>He felt it before he even opened his eyes. Could smell the wildness of him, hear the note of disbelief before he said,</p><p>“Hello, Dean.”</p><p>Dean’s eyes opened and his mouth released a sob, because here he was— <em>here he was</em>— Cas, standing in front of him. Whole, awake, alive, alive, <em>alive</em>—</p><p>There was no thought, no words, only action. Dean sprinted forward and crushed Cas to his chest. Could feel the warmth seeping into him, feel the fabric of the trench coat bunched up in his fists. Dean’s heart was racing, he was shaking, in laughter and disbelief and the feeling that he could fly, and he couldn’t help it, but he was crying again, he was—</p><p>“Dean, I don’t understand. How are you here? <em>Why</em> are you here?”</p><p>“You stupid son of a bitch,” Dean murmured, but he wasn’t angry. He had thought it over, had been angry at Cas for leaving, for sacrificing himself again, but all the fury and the hurt and the fear had drained out of him at the sight of Cas. He held on to Cas, pulled him closer and closer, buried his face in Cas’s neck and whispered against his skin, “You <em>asshole</em>. You left me. You can’t— don’t ever leave me again.”</p><p>Cas pulled back, enough that Dean could see the bright blue of his eyes, and his brows wrinkled in confusion as he said, “Okay, Dean. I won’t.”</p><p>“You better not,” Dean sighed, reeling Cas back in, threading his fingers through his hair.</p><p>Cas still stood a little too stiffly, his arms around Dean a little too loose. “But Dean, I still don’t understand. How… why are you here?”</p><p>“After all this time, you still think I would let you leave that easily? That I would just let you go?” Now it was Dean’s turn to pull back, to make sure that Cas could see the truth written in his eyes; his hands still clutched at Cas’s shoulders, fingers surely leaving bruises in his skin from how hard he dug in, how much he needed to know that this was Cas, this was <em>real</em>. “You left before I ever got a chance to say… before I—”</p><p>“It’s okay, Dean, you don’t have to—”</p><p>“Yes, Cas, I do.” The words came out slightly sharper than intended, and Dean winced. “I need to say it. You need to <em>hear</em> it. Cas, I. Cas, I should have said it a long time ago, because maybe then you never would have been so fucking stupid—”</p><p>“Dean.” Cas cut him off, but there was the hint of a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re really bad at this.”</p><p>“Fuck, I know, man, I know,” Dean groaned, his nerves filtering out of him with a breathy laugh. “I’m sorry, Cas, I’m not really good at using my words. But you… you already knew that.”</p><p>That was <em>definitely</em> a fond smile. “I’d like to think I know a lot about you, Dean.”</p><p><em>Fuck</em>, Dean had missed hearing his name, the warm way Cas said it. And he liked the way his mouth shaped Cas’s name, the feather-soft weight of it on his tongue. “Cas. There’s something you don’t know. Something I didn’t get the chance to say before, but I gotta say it now, and like I was <em>saying</em>, it should have been something I told you years ago.” Deep breath. He could do this. For Cas. “What you said before, that what you want is something you can’t have… That’s not true. You can have it. Cas, we… we can have it. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before now. I’m sorry I didn’t make it clearer. But to hear you say all those things, to hear that you thought I didn’t feel the same way—”</p><p>Cas gasped, and the noise startled Dean into action. He closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Cas’s, hesitant at first, questioning, and then everything inside of him melted as Cas sighed into his mouth. It was like a supernova exploded within Dean, like something in him had been asleep and was just now waking up and realizing the world was in glorious, vivid color. Dean deepened the kiss, insistent, fitting himself perfectly in line with Cas. A quiet moan escaped up his throat, and he couldn’t even be embarrassed, because this was all he wanted, and damn it, he <em>wanted</em>. Cas’s lips moving against his, the open heat of his mouth, the way Cas created shivers to race through Dean when he kissed along his jawline.</p><p>Dean was breathless, his voice a whispered confession against Cas’s neck. “I love you, Cas. So fucking much.” <em>Kiss</em>. “I’m so stupid, so crazy in love with you.” <em>Kiss</em>. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to say it— I’m sorry it took me ‘til now to say it.” A short, soft kiss on his lips, leaning back enough to see the lust-blown blue of Cas’s eyes. “Cas, I <em>promise</em>, I <em>swear</em>, that if you’ll have me, I will spend every minute of the rest of my life telling you how much you mean to me. I meant it when I said I needed you. I can’t do any of this without you, man. Any of it.”</p><p>Cas grinned like he was made of light. “You don’t have to.”</p><p>Dean rushed forward again, capturing a quick kiss. It was messy, uncoordinated, the banging of teeth, and Dean couldn’t keep from smiling like the whole world had just been handed to him. Because it <em>had</em>.</p><p>“Dean?” Dean raised an eyebrow in response, giving Cas space, but still never moving far away. “Can we go home?”</p><p><em>Home</em>. What a beautiful word. What a beautiful thought— that they had their whole lives in front of them, could have a roof over their heads, and make a future together. The two of them. Fucking <em>finally</em>.</p><p>“Yeah, Cas, we can go home,” Dean said. Frowned. Because Jack had said… “But, uh, there’s actually something else I have to tell you. Jack was able to open a portal to get me here, but only humans are able to pass through it. Which means…”</p><p>“If I leave the Empty, I won’t be an angel anymore. I’ll be human.”</p><p>“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Dean touched the tips of his fingers to Cas’s cheek, tried to remind himself that this was Cas’s choice, that if Dean’s heart needed to break, he would gladly let Cas do it. “If there had been another way, I would’ve taken it. And I understand if you don’t… if you don’t want to give up your grace.”</p><p>“So…” Cas trailed off, head swiveling to take in the darkness all around them. “When I go through the portal, it’ll rip out my grace.”</p><p><em>If you need to break my heart, you can have it</em>. “Yes.”</p><p>A pause. Cas met Dean’s eyes. Grinned. “Let’s go home.”</p><p>Dean’s heart swelled. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“I’m sure,” Cas whispered, popping up onto his tiptoes to give Dean a chaste peck. “For you, Dean, I’d do anything. Being human… I’ll be the same as you. I’ll get to grow old with you.”</p><p>And if <em>that</em> didn’t just turn Dean into a fucking puddle. He could feel his cheeks heating up, the blush rising up the back of his neck. “God, I really do fucking love you.”</p><p>“I love you, too, Dean.”</p><p>Cas reached out and tangled their hands together, his thumb stroking across Dean’s palm. Cas took off toward the portal, a small line on the horizon, and Dean stumbled after him, unable to believe that this was really real. That he could have this, that Cas <em>wanted</em> him. Dean knew he didn’t really deserve this, but, for once, he was allowed to be selfish. Cas loved him, and Dean loved him back, and Cas <em>finally knew it</em>.</p><p>With every step, the portal loomed closer. With every step, Dean felt the future grow brighter, glow golden. When they were in front of it, Dean squeezed Cas’s hand, held on tight, and met Cas’s gaze. “Together,” he murmured, and they both stepped through the line of light.</p><p>This time, it wasn’t instantaneous. They didn’t step straight from the Empty into the bunker’s kitchen. Something was tugging at them, pushing back with resistance, trying to pry Cas from Dean’s grip. Dean didn’t know if it was the Empty, if it sensed them leaving and was desperately trying to retain its hold of Cas, or if this was the portal’s magic tearing the grace out of the angel. All Dean knew was that he had to hold on, that he wasn’t going to let go of Cas even if it killed him. He might have been a tiny, fragile human in a world of angels and demons and monsters and all-powerful cosmic entities, but he would be damned if anything tried to take Cas away from him. Not again.</p><p>Then it was over, just like that. The portal spit them both out into the kitchen, where they tumbled headfirst onto the tile floor. And Cas— <em>he wasn’t holding Cas’s hand</em>.</p><p>Dean sprung to his feet, frantic, ready to scream that the portal couldn’t close, he had to go back and get Cas— He whirled around and Cas was there, on his knees next to the refrigerator. Dean closed his eyes with a blessing and collapsed, throwing himself forward until his arms framed a halo around Cas.</p><p>“You did it,” Cas whispered into his ear, his hands on Dean’s back the most grounding thing in the world. “You saved me.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t have needed to if you hadn’t been colossally stupid and sacrificed yourself,” Dean grumbled, but he cradled Cas’s face and kissed him deeply, slowly, like they had all the time they could ever want. Right in front of Sam and Jack and fucking Michael. But Dean didn’t care— not now, not anymore. Cas was <em>his</em>, and he was here, he was <em>home</em>.</p><p>“Welcome back,” Sam said, clapping a hand to both of their shoulders once they had separated. Dean looked up at his brother, at his genuine smile, as Jack dipped down to practically crawl into Cas’s lap for a hug. Sam winked at Dean, a mocking gesture that made Dean flip him off, before motioning to Jack to give Dean and Cas some alone time. Dean definitely owed him one.</p><p>As soon as the room was clear, Dean swooped back down to Cas’s mouth. Kissing him over and over, senselessly, savoring how they could explore, losing all thought when Cas smoothed his fingers over Dean’s throat and Dean felt his own heartbeat flutter erratically at his touch. Tomorrow, they had things they needed to do. A world to save. Tonight, it was them. It was Dean back with Cas, and nothing could take that away.</p><p>This was <em>theirs</em>. This was home, tucked in the curve of Cas’s neck and in Dean spreading his palms flat against Cas’s stomach. Every second was a drop of ink on the page of the new story they were writing— the one where they got to decide the ending.</p><p>But that didn’t matter right now. This— this was about the love they were laying down on their way. The love they gave to each other, had <em>always</em> given to each other. In their touches, they were young again. In a kiss, they were infinite.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you all SO MUCH for reading!!!! i really do love each and every one of you and deeply appreciate the time you've spent with this work and all the love you've shown it and me. from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU!!!</p>
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